Gifted
by Audrey Roget
Summary: "So, for my birthday, you got yourself the gift of sex on my desk."   AU, takes place one year after Larger than Life.


Gifted

by Audrey Roget

_Written for Mariel (LJ's januarynineteen) for the House-Cuddy livejournal 2011 Secret Santa exchange._

She shut the front door with relief. Stepping out of her shoes and shaking the snow from her coat and hair, Cuddy welcomed the quiet warmth of home. As much as she loved having a child in her life - and for all of the self-imposed guilt she carried over not spending enough quality time with said child - leaving Rachel with grandma for the weekend was the best birthday present her mother had given her in ages. The godawful and inexplicably expensive sweater ("I left the tags so you can get full credit when you return it, as usual, Lisa dear."), not so much. A silk-screened clown with a 3-D pom-pom nose over her left breast, seriously? She might try it on later for House just to see his expression.

Speaking of House…why was her home so quiet when his bike was in the driveway? Where was the omnipresent drone of mob wives driving monster trucks that usually greeted her? Feeling drained from the long drive on icy roads, Cuddy leaned against the archway to the living room and yawned. House was stretched along the length the sofa, ear buds transporting him behind closed eyes to some seedy jazz club, no doubt.

The tension in her shoulders began to ease as she eyed House's lips toying lasciviously with a month-old candy cane. Sensing her presence, he angled his head toward Cuddy and opened his eyes. He flicked a glance toward the empty space next to him on the couch, then back to her. Taking the invitation, she moved over to him and reached down to tug the ear buds away. Sure enough, faint strains from John Henry Giles' horn came spilling out. Caressing House's jaw fondly, she leaned over for a soft kiss.

House jerked back. "Your hands are like glaciers. You know, before they all melted. C'mere." He tugged her down to spoon against him, reaching around to envelop her hands in his.

"Fun birthday dinner with the Cuddy clan? I assume mini-you got settled in okay."

Lisa snorted. "Oh, Rachel couldn't have been happier to see me go, I'm sure."

"So much for her clingy phase."

"Gone," Cuddy confirmed. "After I put her in time out for calling Julia's sugar-free, gluten-free -"

"Deliciousness free," House put in.

"- birthday cake, and I quote, 'unfit for human consummation,' my mother agreed with her and dished her up an extra scoop of ice cream." Cuddy huffed, glaring back over her shoulder at House's predictable amusement.

"So Arlene and Rachel are all bff, now. And did your mother ask if you were dating anyone new and awesome yet?" House teased, glancing a kiss to her hairline.

Cuddy shivered lightly. "You could've been there to answer that, you know."

"I really couldn't have," he snarked, "I ran out of valium just this morning."

Lisa's head sagged forward at the memory of excruciating birthdays past, her eyes lighting on a familiar object against the opposite wall, one that was totally out of place in her living room.

"House?"

"Mmmhmm…" he rumbled.

"Over in the corner, that looks like my office desk."

"Oh. That's probably because it's he desk from your office.

"Do I even want to know?" she asked, baffled.

House tightened his arms around her. "Well, you're always complaining that I won't give in to your degrading demands for sex on your desk because of my rule about no nookie in the work place - oh, no wait, I've got that backwards." Cuddy back-handed him to the shoulder. "Normally, as you know, I don't believe in bringing work home, but what can I say? I'm just too committed to my job."

Her brows crumpled together. "This…takes fantasy to a new and disturbing level."

"Like you're opposed to a little kinky playacting," he chuffed.

"The naughty nurse outfit on Halloween was one thing -" Cuddy countered.

"No way I'm wearing those white stockings next year," House interjected, "my testicles just re-descended last week."

"- but," Cuddy soldiered on, "what am I, you know, supposed to do my work on two days from now?"

She felt him shrug behind her. "The movers will be here at six am Monday. We _should_ be done with it by then."

Exasperated, she turned in his arms.

"Happy birthday." House grinned down at her.

Cuddy grunted as she pulled away and sat up. "So…for _my_ birthday, you got _yourself_ the gift of sex on my desk."

"No, for your birthday, I suggested to your mother that Rachel was too young to be exposed to the loud animal noises Mommy likes to make." He smirked proudly. "I've child-proofed your sex life for the weekend. The desk…is just a well-chosen prop."

Her mother's uncharacteristically out-of-the-blue offer to take Rachel for a couple of nights suddenly made sense. After all this time, how had she not seen the invisible hand of House pulling the levers? The trip out to Morristown in Friday night traffic, not to mention the unending birthday dinner, gave him time to relocate the desk, she deduced.

In her detached, rational mind, Lisa understood that she should have been delighted by his spontaneity and touched by the trouble he'd taken to make her feel sexy; she should have been able to appreciate his attempt to express intimacy, however oblique or clueless. That was usually how she accepted House's twisted tributes, and in the moment, she could comprehend all of that with crystal clarity.

But at the end of a long week, and a long drive, and after that tormented Kabuki of a family celebration, all she wanted was to curl up quietly in House's arms and burrow down against the cold and the reminder that she was another year older. Instead, his smug, leering grin and the presumptions his "gift" imposed only sparked her irritation, which just as quickly imploded to leave a cold void in the center of her chest.

"Goodnight, House," she muttered, dragging herself off the couch and down the hall to her bedroom. If he called after her, she didn't hear it.

###

Of course, by the time Cuddy actually got situated under the covers, she was wide awake, and her old friend remorse had settled in where House should have been sprawled beside her. Shoving into a remote corner of her mind the thought of her mother and House discussing her sex life, Lisa realized with a twinge how much of his own privacy he'd willingly violated by calling in such a favor to Arlene. That conversation must have been even more tortuous than whatever he'd had to endure to get her mother to haul the desk out of storage to begin with. Apparently, this fetish meant more to him than just enacting a sex-in-the-office scenario.

So what _was_ his obsession with her desk, anyway? All this time, she'd thought House's unsubtle hints - and occasional outright begging - to get it on during office hours was about pushing boundaries and breaking rules (his favorite pastime) or avoiding work (his second-favorite activity), or even just a blatant contest of wills (which, admittedly, she enjoyed as much as he did). But now it was clear: the desk itself was what he was after. Why was he fixated on returning to the scene of the crime, so to speak? Was this his version of finding closure in their past so that he could get an emotional grasp on their present - and maybe their future? House's sentimental streak ran a mile wide, she knew, and was buried a thousand feet deep.

Truthfully, she hadn't thought about their one-night stand in any kind of detail for over two decades. Hadn't allowed it, if she was being honest with herself. She'd wallowed in betrayal and abandonment through the rest of the fall semester and the entirety of her holiday break, but from the moment she set foot back in Ann Arbor that January she'd gone into ruthless denial, determined that it would never mean more to her than a foolish lapse in judgment. Years later, House's omnipresence in her life had eroded his mystique, and time had diluted her bitterness. Only then did she permit herself to recall with vague fondness a night of youthfully exuberant, ill-advised, undeniably explosive sex with a man whose abrupt absence had ultimately saved her from months or years of heartache. A bullet mercifully dodged, she convinced herself.

As the years passed, she reluctantly admitted that her feelings for House were deeper and more permanent than could conceivably be good for her. So she distracted herself with other men and the pursuit of motherhood, firmly convinced that any kind of real relationship with him was beyond the realm of possibility. She told herself that learning House's side of events didn't change a thing, while the truth was belied by the fact that she ran from their past even harder. In the end, she'd chosen him. No. There was no real choice involved when it came to House. Rather, she'd taken a chance on the potential of a life with him, which turned out to be a decision she found herself making - joyfully, for the most part - every day, and their new beginning rendered history moot.

Not surprisingly, for House the past never turned out to be truly resolved. She was an idiot to think that just because they'd been able to negotiate a loving co-existence in the here and now, he could leave their origins unexamined. It was as sweet as it was frustrating, just like the man himself. Which left her lying here wide awake and feeling like an ass. Cuddy threw off the covers and looked for her robe. Instead, she grabbed for the gift box from Saks and slid her mother's present over her head.

###

Cuddy found him sitting at the desk, long legs stretched to balance his feet on the edge. His profile was pensive, illuminated only by the small study lamp in one corner.

She gently slipped her arms around his shoulders from behind and inhaled the tantalizing scent of his skin. "It has been awhile since we've ventured out of the bedroom, hasn't it?"

He froze for an instant, then let his head fall forward in a sigh, accepting her sideways - and reassuringly suggestive - apology. Cuddy took that as a passive invitation to plant a kiss on his nape.

"The bed and the bathtub have been seeing all the action for so long," he replied softly, "the other rooms have been getting jealous."

"Well…we could've tried the car." She nipped his ear lightly.

"It's too cold out in the garage, my ass might freeze to the upholstery." She felt him tremble slightly, but doubted it was from the imagined chill.

"You forget, I have electric seat warmers."

"You forget, when we tried that last winter, your battery died."

Cuddy stiffened. "And now I recall with perfect clarity how you told the AAA guy that the battery exploded because I tried to hook it up to my vibrator."

House dropped his feet and swiveled to face her. His smirk warped instantly into a grimace. "What the hell is that?"

Cuddy struggled to keep a straight face and sound wounded. "It's a birthday gift from my mother. Isn't it fabulous?"

"A whole new language would have to be developed to adequately describe the hideousness of that sweater."

Cuddy glanced down at the garish harlequin. "What's the matter, too much like looking in a mirror?"

In response, House grabbed her waist and whipped his head over her tit, ripping off the clown's fur-ball nose with his teeth. Spitting it out he declared, "Well, that's an improvement."

Toes curling into the carpet, Cuddy let out a minor shriek, then whined playfully, "Damn. Now I won't be able to return it."

With a full-throated laugh, she whipped the awful thing over her head to reveal a cream satin chemise beneath. Basking in the glow of House's own laughter, Lisa backed around to ease up onto her desk. House wheeled the chair forward, parting her knees and sliding between them.

Still smiling broadly, she cupped his jaw in her hands and bent to kiss him soundly. A faint taste of peppermint and sugar remained at the corners of his mouth. What began as friendly reconciliation soon escalated to sizzling arousal. House's hands stroked her thighs, teasing the nightgown higher.

She groaned softly when he drew away, skating his lips over the tender skin of her throat. His hands crept higher, fingers tucking beneath her nightie and curling around the elastic of her panties. He tugged lightly, and she took the cue to lift one cheek, then the other so he could pull them down her legs. House held them to his nose and closed his eyes on a loud, lusty sniff. Tossing them over his shoulder, he cast her a smutty look, making her squirm with need. Bunching the nightie around her hips, he bent his head to rub his beard against her inner thigh. Cuddy's soft whimper grew to an urgent moan when his tongue probed her folds, and she arched back to give him better access, running one hand encouragingly over his neck and shoulders.

Okay, this was the one sharp detail that she had never been able to expunge or deny: House had been the first man ever to taste her, proving that his sharp wit came in second to his other oral aptitudes. At the time, in her relative inexperience, Lisa couldn't imagine why a guy would really want to put his mouth there…and then House had convinced her that any man would be crazy not to.

Now, as his hot, relentless strokes drove her toward the edge of sanity, Cuddy had just enough presence of mind to notice the date showing on the calendar at the corner of the desk: October 16, 1987. A cascade of sense memories from that first night with House flowed through her. The overheated air and slight mildew smell of her little apartment, the thump of a boombox echoing across the courtyard, House's breath rasping over her mons. She climaxed on a loud, throaty groan that roared through her entire body.

House tenderly rubbed his lips over her belly as her pulse calmed and her breath slowed. Still tingling, Cuddy folded over him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "Thank you," she whispered against his ear. His muscles bunched under her hands, and she smoothed them lower, tracing his spine and scapulae. Tightening her arms, she urged him to his feet.

"My pleasure," he murmured, standing to capture her mouth in a musky kiss. They nuzzled and grazed delicately while Cuddy's hands wandered under his shirt, caressing the small of his back and running her fingers along the waist of his jeans. Yearning to feel his heartbeat beneath her lips, she skated her hands to the front of his shirt, splaying the placket one button at a time to scatter kisses over his fair skin. "Mmm…hmm," he sighed when she took a nipple between her teeth.

His fingertips danced along her upper arms, raising goose bumps as he nudged the straps of her nightgown over her shoulders, and she warmed to watch his eyes trace the curve of her bare breasts. Her hands moved down to stroke the fly of his jeans, cupping him, then dragging her knuckles over the seam before gingerly popping the button and dragging the zipper down. House stooped to circle his tongue around one peaked nipple as she slid his jeans and boxer briefs over his erection and down to the tops of his thighs. "Hands still too cold?" she teased. He bit his lip and shook his head in reply.

House leveraged himself with one hand against the desktop and palmed her ass with the other, drawing her close. Never tearing his eyes from hers, House pressed inside her with aching slowness and shuddered out a long, pleasurable sigh. When he began to move, the intensity of their gaze overwhelmed her, and Cuddy buried her face in the crook of his neck. Toes pointed, her knees bracketed his sides as his hips bucked in hard, short thrusts. She reached down to flex her fingers against his glutes in rhythm with his rocking. House flung his head back and moaned, "God. Yess." She nipped at his adam's apple, the vibration of his voice sending shivers down her spine as they gathered momentum and soared into glorious oblivion.

Lisa felt his ribs release the breath he'd been holding through his orgasm, and House withdrew, stumbling back slightly to collapse in the chair. A smile tipped his lips as he stared at her glassy-eyed. Feeling a goofy grin overtake her face, Cuddy peeled herself off of the desk and pecked his mouth quickly before padding down the hall to the powder room. She dampened a washcloth in the sink to wipe herself off, then rinsed it and brought it to House, who looked as if he hadn't moved a muscle in the meantime. While she slipped her panties on, he cleaned up and tugged his shorts back into place, then dropped the rag atop his crumpled jeans, still on the floor.

Cuddy broke the silence of their afterglow. "I suppose the bedroom is sounding pretty good about now, hm?"

House nodded. "Go on. I'll shut things off out here."

"Okay. I'll get the sheets warm."

Heaving himself up and reaching for his cane, House turned out the desk lamp with a satisfied flick.

###

As she straightened the bed covers and pillows, Cuddy realized that her earlier exhaustion had utterly dissolved. Of course, if she'd thought that sex would have perked her up when she first got home, they'd never have argued in the first place. Not that she was going to let on to House that his instincts were, infuriatingly, right yet again.

Snuggling in under the comforter, she heard him shuffling around out in the kitchen and rummaging through drawers. A minute later, a faint glow preceded his entrance into the bedroom. He hobbled in balancing a plate with one hand and gripping a fork along with his cane in the other. The dish held a small, decadent-looking cake, topped by a single flickering pink candle. She sat up, surprised by both this offering and the swell of emotion rising in her throat.

"Normally I would say something like, 'Blow baby blow,'" House said, lowering himself to the bed, "but a guy needs a little more refractory time at my age."

Cuddy silently met his dancing eyes for a few long moments, then closed them on a wish before blowing out the flame. Although he was surely dying to, House didn't ask what she'd wished for. He would almost certainly get her to reveal it later, anyway. Instead, he drove the fork into a blob of glossy dark icing, offering a bite to Cuddy. She scooted forward, mouth ready, but his wrist suddenly flipped in the opposite direction, and he dove forward to snatch the cake for himself.

"Hey!" Cuddy protested, smacking House's bicep. "That's mine!"

"I made it," House declared through a sticky mouthful, "but I suppose you can have some too."

Rolling her eyes, Cuddy wrenched the utensil from his hand. "Gee, thanks." She savored the deep, bittersweet chocolate melting against her tongue. .God. Cuddy sighed wantonly and leaned over to kiss House before reaching for another bite.


End file.
